Bheadh Buachaillin Deas Ag Sile

Sheila would have a nice boy
If she married me as a man
I’d kill the trout on the tide
And the rabbit on the dune, too
I wouldn’t ask for horses or sheep
Yellow silver or gold
As I would prefer to have her
Than any king’s daughter who lived

Sheila’s mother is frigid
And doesn’t feel much empathy in her heart
She’s got a large wallet looking for
Rentable land with a man
He could be tall or short
He could be fair or dark
Oh, he could be hunched or stand-up straight
As long as he owns sheep and cows

My Sheila doesn’t think that way
She’d prefer me to a thousand men
Surely, I’d play my pipes for her
And dance in a funny outfit
I’d sow the seeds in the ground
And come back and reap them
And I wouldn’t be quarrelling
But laughing, and caring for my beloved

My bargain is made with Sheila
And all of Ireland would not break it
Without dependence on her her mother or family
She will go, without stopping
I would get married in the city this month
And the priest will be paid well
I am unlikely to stay in this country
But roaming, from here on-out